Goodnight my Friend
From the Desk of Captain-Commander Retsu Unohana As the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, and a long time friend to Captain Jūshirō Ukitake, It pains me to write this letter. Jūshirō was a great, noble, and honorable man who stood for everything that a Shinigami and a Captain should. He never looked down on those around him, and was seen as a shining light to those of the Thirteenth Division. The Captains who had the honor to serve alongside Jūshirō share this sentiment, and are here if you need our assistance as we know the extenuating circumstances of the Ukitake Household. We invite you to join us, for the Captain's burial - so that you can witness the final moments of the man who we both cherished and adored. - Signed, Retsu Unohana The Man we Knew Rows of shinigami had gathered atop Sōkyoku Hill - every other row marked by a fluttering white banner decorated with their divisions emblem. Several divisions were in attendance, including the First through Fifth Divisions, the Sixth and Eight Division, and of course the Thirteenth Division. All had gathered on this somber day, draped in their blackest blacks, to honor and see-off the man whom they all admired and loved. The altar before the Sōkyoku was covered in a large white cloth, neatly tucked around the sides, leaving only the imprint of a body for all to see. "Today we gather," a woman's voice broke the silence of the crowd. She had a motherly voice that could warm even the coldest of hearts. It was a surprise to many that such a voice belonged to the most powerful woman - no the most powerful Shinigami - in the Soul Society. Her name was Retsu Unohana, the former Captain of the Fourth Division and the Second Captain-Commander the Gotei had ever seen. "To commemorate the life and mourn the death of the late Captain Jūshirō Ukitake." "A man of great virtue, who was stricken with illness at an early age, Jūshirō had known his death would come without warning since he was in the Academy. Even the premonition of death could not stop him," Retsu looked towards the altar with a distant gaze. "He graduated beneath the late Captain-Commander Yamamoto, and earned his rank as the Captain of the Thirteenth Division. Even in sickness, he served his post without fail, through the darkest moments of our past. From the Uprising of the Gōmen to the Betrayal of Sōsuke Aizen and his subsequent attack... Captain Jūshirō held his ground. Even at the moment of his mentor's death, he kept strong." Retsu ran her eyes through the crowd, naming the faces she recognized to herself. Captain Tōshirō stood out among the crowd, having grown taller in the most recent years. He looked to be a spitting image of the late Captain, if Jūshirō kept an air of seriousness about him all the time. "No man can look down on Jūshirō Ukitake, for he was a greater man then us all. It was Jūshirō who saw the light in the world, and it was Jūshirō who gave men like Ichigo Kurosaki a chance to prove themselves. If it was not for Jūshirō, the world may not exist as we know it... and for that we must thank him." The crowd whispered their thanks mixed in with prayer. "Before we give the Captain's body to the flame, would anybody like to speak now? Or forever hold your tongue?" Retsu said. The crowd did not answer back, too caught up in tears or grief to speak. She eyed the crowd once more and sighed when she could not find the face of the man she was looking for. Captain Kyōraku had not come, which left a ill taste in her mouth. They were as much brothers as they were comrades, and Shunsui knew this. Retsu turned to the altar, where a member of the Kidō Corps had conjured a tall stack of sticks that intertwined around the body. A torch appeared in his hand, which he handed right to the Captain-Commander. "Thank you," she exchanged bows with the man and then he left. She lowered the torch and watched as the wood caught aflame, dotting the Sōkyoku Hill with a bright orange light. The cloth turned to ash and crumbled around Jūshirō's body, and soon even his body was taken by the flames. The smell of fire and flesh filled Retsu's lungs as her eyes filled with tears - she had seen death before, which made this all the harder to take in. Where was Shunsui? she pondered. He should be here. The Man who Lost In the distance, Shunsui Kyōraku watched a glow of orange dance in the winds. Tongues of fire licked at the sky above Sōkyoku Hill, a famed landmark that Shunsui had known since he was a boy. He and Jūshirō had often spent their days atop that hill, training from dawn till dusk. "Nobody should see your Bankai, Shunsui-san. Let's go up there and train..." he would say. Shunsui closed his one good eye and soaked up the memories of his past - how good they were. A bottle of sake sat in front of Shunsui, nearly empty after a long evening of drinking by himself. The sake tasted bitter by yourself, though he was used to the taste. He had raised his first cup to Jūshirō a few hours early, and the rest of it was to drown out that first one - to cleanse his mind of that itching feeling that made his heart heavy. "First the Old Man, and now you Jūshirō... what happened to us all?" Another sip and Shunsui felt his head get heavy. His eyes rolled and visions flashed past his eyes like a gust of wind. He saw himself, green as grass wearing the uniform of a First Year academy student. How young and handsome he looked - no wonder the ladies loved him back then. Shunsui watched in silence as his life unfolded before him, which only made him want to take another sip of sake. Jūshirō came into view, back when his hair was black as night. "You are Shunsui, correct? My father has mentioned the Kyōraku many times, he holds your grandfather and father in high regard!" "I wouldn't be surprised, geezers tend to stick together." Shunsui chuckled in his drunken stupor. He sloshed the sake around in his cup, and eyed the clear yellowish liquid. He inhaled another cup and looked up towards the skies, where his past continued to unfold. "What do you mean Old Man? Jūshirō's sick? Surely the Healing Squad can do something, what's wrong with him?" a younger Shunsui was filled with frustration as he stood before his teacher. Yamamoto was not as old then, though age had taken it's toll on his body - his scars had already began to sag. Yamamoto sighed. "A disease more common in the World of the Living - it attacks young Jūshirō's lungs. His fevers are getting worse and that damned cough drains him before the day is done. The doctors fear he will have to drop out," Yamamoto looked at Shunsui with sadness in his eyes. "He may not have much fight left in him." "Don't say that, sensei." Shunsui and Yamamoto turned to see Jūshirō standing in the doorway, hair as white as snow and his body thin as a malnourished boy. He wore long white robes that made him look like a ghost, though his smile was filled with life. "I have a duty to fulfill to my family, sensei. I have come so far to let me body give out on me. Give me three months, and I'll get back on my feet and in class. I promise." Shunsui would never forget that look in Jūshirō's eyes. There was determination in those green eyes, determination that Shunsui had never seen before. Shunsui would go on to be amazed when Jūshirō came through on his claim, when he came into class three months later with his hair still white as snow. "Like I told Yamamoto-sensei, I have a duty to fulfill. Will you help me, Shunsui?" "Always." The sake had worked its magic before Shunsui could hallucinate anymore, pulling his eyelids shut without any fight. He laid back against the roof of the Eight Division barracks and fell asleep to the sight of fire burning in the distance. "Jūshirō..." were the last words on his lips before he drifted into a drunken sleep. The Woman who Gained Hours had passed, and the funeral possession had ended. Nothing but a few smoldering ashes remained where Captain Jūshirō Ukitake's body had been laid. Only a select few had gathered in the wake of it all, each one silent as the night air. In attendance was Captain Shinji Hirako, alongside his Lieutenant Momo Hinamori, Lieutenant Shūhei Hisagi, Captain Tōshiro Hitsugaya, Lieutenant Rangiku Matsumoto, and Lieutenant Rukia Kuchiki. These six had gathered together, for reasons unknown, for they all were close to the late Captain in different ways. It had come as a surprise to the others when Shinji Hirako stayed once the procession had ended, seeing as how nobody ever saw him and Jūshirō as anything more than comrades. "Miss Kuchiki," Captain Hirako said. He hadn't adorned the more common funeral attire, as the other Captains and Lieutenants had, having kept on his normal robes and cloak. The captain was an odd man, anyone could attest to that, with quirky way of speaking and his rather long smile. He always looked to be planning something, even when he tried to hide it behind that stupid grin. Lieutenant Rukia Kuchiki didn't draw her attention from the pile of burned wood. She had lost so much in the last few years - starting with her dear brother Byakuya and now her Captain. She fought to hold back the tears, though it was useless considering the situation. "I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to talk about it. Not now." "Oi, fine fine..." Shinji huffed as he hiked back his haori, stuffing two hands down his pockets. "But come morning, a meeting will be held. And your name will be on that list, Miss Kuchiki." Shinji bowed his head towards the pyre, and instructed Momo to do the same. The two descended down the Hill shortly after, keeping up with the silence that the others had kept to. Shinigami were no strangers to Death, in fact they were the closest thing to being guardians of Death. Yet even godly beings grow faint of heart in the face of tragedy, just as a Human would. Rukia had known Humans in her time, and had lived alongside them once upon a time. She knew how powerful their emotions were, and how even death could unite a broken family. Where was her moment of unity? She looked to the right, where Shūhei was departing towards. "Be safe, all of you." Then he was gone. "Captain," Rukia said, and Tōshiro looked to her. He had grown so much in the past few years, standing at an equal height to his Lieutenant, Rangiku. His hair looked almost normal in contrast to the rest of his body, though he maintained that air of superiority that he always had - though it wasn't as blatant now, before Jūshirō's smoldered pyre. "Thank you for staying so long, Captain Jūshirō always enjoyed his visits to the Tenth barracks. He sent me to get him sweets for you, not to long ago." Tōshiro's expression didn't change. "He gave me sweets like I was a child, the idiot." Rangiku laughed, "Don't act like you didn't enjoy them Captain." "I'm not partial towards sweets, Rangiku. Though the Captain enjoyed it, and for that I can only be grateful." Rukia smiled at Tōshiro's comment. The Captain had quite the impression on Tōshiro when the 'child prodigy' had been promoted to Captain of the Tenth Division. According to Jūshirō, he was one of the Captain's to vouch for Tōshiro's captaincy though he never told him. "Why does Shinji have to be so persistent?" for a second, Rukia felt she had come off to blunt with the question. Though Tōshiro didn't seem phased, rather he seemed prepared. "Because you are a strong candidate for the position, Rukia. You have the strength and the credentials to back you up Miss Kuchiki," Tōshiro tapped the handle of his zanpakutō. "Though you've been quiet about it, It appears that you have mastered your Bankai. You also have several other Captains vouching for you, like Shinji. As the Lieutenant of the Thirteenth Division, you would be stepping up until a new Captain can be decided. Some of us feel as though we should skip that step and promote you to the position all together." There was a knot in Rukia's stomach, though she was feeling quite proud of herself. She had mastered Bankai, and she had spent quite a long time as the Lieutenant, which considering Jūshirō's health issues... it was Rukia who commanded the division most of the time. She was prepared for this, but still, the thought of replacing the Captain seemed wrong. "It's getting late," Rangiku had motioned down the hillside to which Captain Tōshiro agreed. "Good night, Rukia-chan." Rukia gave a curt bow and looked to Tōshiro. "Don't stay out here too long, Miss Kuchiki. You'll catch a cold," and before she could say anything back, the Tenth Division Captain and Lieutenant were gone. Finally, she was alone. The emotions that she had kept bottled up all day seemed to let loose like a rushing stream of water held behind a dam. Tears filled her eyes, and the night air sent a chill down her back. She remembered what Tōshiro had said - 'You'll catch a cold.' Jūshirō would always tell her that, acting like the father she never had. Was it coincidence? Or had Tōshiro known? It didn't matter. It only mattered that Jūshirō was gone, as was Byakuya, Renji, Orihime, Ichigo... everyone that mattered to her, she would never see again. Perhaps this was how it should be for a lonely orphan girl like her, whose own sister abandoned her before she could even walk. "Miss Kuchiki! Miss Kuchiki! It's been so long, how are you?" She turned and said with an open mouth, "How did you get here?"